To Fell a Soldier
by Caitriona3
Summary: Sequel to Dark as Night - Darcy was perfectly happy staying out of the limelight, but a couple of things bring her old habits screaming to the forefront. First and foremost? They call him the Winter Soldier.
1. Revelations

_Author's Note - Might go a little darker than some of the others, we'll see... Sorry to throw another one in the mix, but a couple of scenes just came to me full throttle and so I had to write it. Also, please read the first story in the series, Dark as Night, or this one might not make much sense._

**Revelations**

Darcy yawned as she followed Clint across the deck of the helicarrier and into the command center. She would have liked to have gotten another couple of hours' worth of sleep, but there was science and Stark and squabbling. Not exactly the recipe for a relaxing time. She just managed to get all of them to stop snarling at each other and go back to their respective corners when Clint showed up spitting mad about something and asked her to come back with him. Their cool, collected sniper seemed ready to explode, and that was unlike him. It made her nervous. Plus she had sort of promised to keep an eye on him whenever Natasha had to be away.

She really needed to sit down with the red-head one day and find out what it was about Red Room operatives and snipers.

"Alright," she grumped, glaring around the room. "Someone want to tell me why I'm here instead of back with the Lab Brats?"

"We've got a problem," Fury announced. His one eye narrowed on her as she scoffed. "Miss Lewis-"

"I know you've got a problem," she interrupted. "There's a whole host of reasons why you stay out of the tower and I stay off your boat. For you to haul me out here and for Clint to be pissed about it? That obviously translates to a problem. Let's just skip the formalities and you tell me what exactly the problem is?" She shook her head. "I've got three cranky, pissy scientists ready to wage war over this or that and I don't have time for SHIELD games." Her eyes slid over to Clint and back. "What's got him twisted up?"

"I believe that would be me."

Darcy folded her arms over her chest and glared at Fury. After several long, tense moments, she pivoted ever so slowly and tilted her head to peer at a walkway a little over her head towards the rear of the room. A group of people waited there with a familiar face at the front and center of the group. "Well, well, well," she drawled out, a cold ferocity lacing every word. "Agent Coulson."

He could not quite repress the wince. "Miss Lewis."

"Looking awfully spry for a dead man, _Agent_." The scorn she put into his rank was probably overdone, but she was the one who spent the past several months dealing with the Avengers as they came to some kind of terms with his death. To find him alive…to know their pain had been needless… Darcy was moving beyond pissed to incandescently wrathful.

"Miss Lewis-" he began, only to be interrupted by a shout.

"Director Fury! We've got footage!"

"Let me see it," Fury's voice ordered behind her.

She did not bother turning around. Her focus remained steady on Phil Coulson's face. She could see the remorse in his shuttered gaze, but she wasn't sure she was ready to forgive and forget. It made her feel a little better to see the confusion also lurking in there. Apparently someone left something out of his briefing as well.

"What the hell?"

Clint's voice drew her attention as Fury's did not. She turned her head, examined his face, and glanced over to see what had caught his eye. Widow and Cap seemed to be in the middle of a fight – a big one. Her eyes caught on Widow's expression…something was wrong there. It was…vulnerable. Darcy's eyes narrowed, only to flare wide as a new figure appeared on the screen. She actually felt herself take a step back. "Son of a bitch."

Everyone turned to look at her, but she pulled out her phone and hit speed dial. "JARVIS, get me Stark, right now."

Fury fumed. "Iron Man is not-"

"Shut up," she pointed at him before gesturing to the screen. The entire room seemed to go into some kind of silent shock. "Is that live? Where is that?"

"It's in the city," Clint replied softly, pointing to a couple of familiar buildings.

"It's also live," Coulson noted in the silence.

Tony's voice came on the phone. "Lewis, I don't have time to-" 

"Stop," she cut in. "Jane, Thor, Pepper, and Bruce…are they all in the tower now?"

"Yes, but-"

"Lock it down," she ordered. "I don't care what else is going on, you get the tower locked down right now. Put Jane and Pepper in the safest room in the whole damn building and the three of you are now guard dogs."

She could hear JARVIS initiating the security measures, and then Tony's…no, _Iron Man's_ voice started up once more. "Situation?"

"There is a very, _very_ dangerous man in the city right now. Cap and Widow are dealing with him and they're about to get reinforcements, but I need to know Jane is safe."

"We've got both of them locked in a safe room," Iron Man replied. "Thor is with them while Bruce and I are guarding the only entrance."

"Good," she pronounced. "I'll call back when it's safe to open up." She hung up the phone. Her eyes skimmed the room before settling on Hill. "I need leathers." Hill nodded and gestured to one of the multiple minions. As the man rushed out of the room, she turned to look at Clint. "Okay, Hotshot, go find us a ride."

"Just a minute!" Fury thundered as Clint took off at a run. "You can't just-"

"Don't tell me what I can't just," Darcy snarled. The minion returned with a spare uniform. "I am not happy with SHIELD right now and you least of all. The idiot behind me is close, but you made the decision to lie and manipulate people's emotions. Stay out of my way." She moved into a mostly hidden alcove and changed quickly into the uniform.

Fury made the mistake of trying to grab her arm as she walked back into the room. A flurry of moves later had him back against a console with her foot against his throat. She ignored the multiple weapons pointed at her to focus on one in particular. "Want to wager on whether I can kill him before you shoot me, Agent Hill?" A saccharine sweet smile rested on her lips. "Care for a promotion?"

"Not particularly," Hill replied, but her aim never wavered.

"Call them off," Darcy chuckled darkly. "This? This was just a warning." She released him and stepped back. He straightened, giving her a cold look. She bared her teeth. "Don't mistake me, Director Fury. I only look the flighty college intern. I am not Natasha Romanoff. I am not bound to SHIELD." Her eyes swept the room before focusing on him once more. "You may have sparred with her, but I guarantee you have never truly faced _Chernaya Vdova._ And I am the elder of us. Think on that as you plot and plan."

"Darcy?"

She looked up to see Hawkeye suited up and waving at her from the door. Giving him a nod, she turned back to Fury. "Don't get in my way." Sparing a glance for Coulson, she headed out the door, racing to follow Hawkeye into a quinjet. "Let's go." She sighed. "And you better go with _Sumerki_, for now."

He lifted a brow but did not speak as the quinjet shot across the sky towards the city and a reunion she had hoped would never come.


	2. To Remember?

_Author's Note – I wanted to get this scene down while it was totally fresh in my mind. Enjoy!_

**To Remember?**

"How maneuverable is this thing?" Darcy asked as she stretched a bit in the open area. She hated wearing borrowed clothes, particularly leather because it never moved quite right.

"Good," Hawkeye replied. "If they can pull it off in a fighter jet then I can manage it in this baby."

She moved forward to lean against the empty copilot seat. "Specifically then," she gestured towards the buildings they flew between, "can you fly alongside the buildings and barrel roll over the top with the back door open, hover for a moment, and then finish the roll in the next block."

"Hovering will be the hard part," he muttered, glancing over his controls. "These things are good, but stopping that precisely-"

"I don't need precise," she patted his shoulder. "I just need a few breaths to get off without breaking all the bones in me. Even a slowdown will work. Can you do that?"

He nodded. "I'll make it work."

"Good."

Darcy moved away, waiting for him to open the rear hatch. She worked to deepen her breathing, automatically finding her center and preparing for the fight to come. Her mind flashed through her memories.

_Zimniy Soldat_…the Winter Soldier…"the American" they called him. She had known him as Aleksander…Sasha…once upon a lifetime ago. The images flickered behind her closed eyes. _Soldat i Sumerki_…Soldier and Nightfall…Sasha and Darya – they had been partners once, two of the best and brightest available to the KGB. They even trained other operatives. Who better to pair up for difficult missions?

They moved easily from partners to lovers. It was inevitable, given their missions. The two of them walked the shadows of cities across more than a dozen countries on four continents with only each other to trust as they carried out their orders. Even the best training could not prevent the eroding of barriers, the weakening of restraint. Slowly but surely they began to open up to one another, letting the other learn their tells, their weaknesses – compensating for each other and becoming a powerful, dangerous unit.

And then they began to question.

It had only been a matter of time before their superiors grew to fear and distrust the threat they represented.

Sasha disappeared.

Darcy, still Darya at the time, searched.

She reached out to every contact, every secret hiding place. Nothing. No one saw him; no one heard of him. They saw nothing; they heard nothing; they knew nothing. Her immediate superior ordered her to return to Moscow for a special debrief. That is when she knew. He was gone, as if he had never been, and it was the doing of their own superiors. Sasha, lover of Darya, was as good as dead. The masters of the KGB would never allow such a menace as they to exist. Returning to Moscow meant walking into her own death – either by firing squad or by re-education.

Darya, lover of Sasha, would disappear forever.

Something inside of her broke that day and repressed memories flooded to the surface – her murdered family and the process of being broken down and remade into _Sumerki_. When she finally recovered from the rush of remembering, she had risen to her feet and refused to go down without a fight. Never again. Never again would she be the tool, the pawn of a faceless organization working to advance an unknown goal for "the greater good".

Darya Lebedeva disappeared.

_Sumerki_ was decreed to be _Predatel_.

Eighteen months later Danielle Levinson arrived in New York City.

She never looked back.

Moving and changing her identity when necessary, she found ways to get in, around, or through every system. No matter how much she hated the reality of the Red Room and its work on her, she never abandoned one of its core teachings – observe, adapt, and survive. That became her lifeline across three continents and too many years. She avoided any connection with her past – leaving any area bearing the signs of a Red Room operative – but that did not mean she left herself blind. The occasional appearance of _Soldat_ – always _Soldat_, never Sasha, she would not let herself think it – always bubbled in the intelligence network and it nearly boiled over when his protégé, the infamous _Chernaya Vdova_, defected.

A fitting epitaph for Sasha…that his protégé would seek freedom.

Then Odette and Jane came into her life. Suddenly she had a new focus, a new goal, and it woke her from the long years of survival. How ironic that it should be just at this moment when _Soldat's_ path should once more cross with hers.

Darcy accepted the memories, let them wash over her, and then she tucked them away. Later she would remember and honor and perhaps even mourn. For now, however, she could not let them become a liability to the job she had to do. The Winter Soldier represented a threat – to Jane, to Natasha, to Clint, and to the life she was just beginning to trust in. She would not allow him to destroy it.

"Dar-" Hawkeye started and then broke off. "Sumerki, we're almost there."

"Your accent is almost perfect," she complimented him calmly, drawing her gun. "Though it is closest to the region around Moscow. You would be marked as an out-of-towner in St. Petersburg."

"I'll remember that," he chuckled softly. "Do you need anything?"

"No," she replied, her body going still as she buried Darcy beneath Sumerki once more. "Stay back, stay safe, and be ready to pick us up." She paused and then added, "Try not to let SHIELD interfere."

"I'll see what I can do," he answered her just as seriously. "Get ready. Your window is going to be brief, very brief."

"Understood." She moved to the side of the vehicle, as close to the rear hatch as possible, and braced herself as the rear hatch opened. She let her instincts and training take over, shifting and sliding as the jet revolved to fly upside down. Trusting in Hawkeye's piloting, she ran through the opening and cast herself into the air.

The fall, brief as it was, gave her a moment to determine everyone's position on the roof and analyze her best options for a safer landing. Even as her feet touched the hard surface, she softened her knees and collapsed into a roll. She came up on her feet, eyes and weapon focused on the man facing off with her friends.

The tableau froze.

"Don't shoot," Captain America ordered.

She didn't reply and Widow shifted. "_Sumerki, zhdat (wait)."_

Soldier twitched, his eyes shifting from their focus on the captain to zero in on her. Something flickered in his gaze. "_Sumerki?"_

"_Soldat."_

"_Vy zhivete (you live)?"_

"Last check." This time she spoke in English, refusing to remain in the language of her enslavement.

"They…" His voice seemed rougher, less sure in English although he had always been fluent. It was as though he had to dredge the words up from the back of his mind. "They told me you were dead."

Her lips thinned. "They lied."

A tremor ran through him, his cold expression wavering. Every moment that passed caused the reaction to grow more violent, more intense. A war seemed to be waged beneath his skin. His right hand came up to the side of his head, curling into a fist against his temple. He stumbled.

Captain America started to step forward, but the gun in Soldier's left hand came up.

"Don't," Widow said softly. She met Darcy's eyes and made a small gesture. Darcy nodded. They waited.

A moment passed… then another. His eyes grew more wild with each passing second, darting from one to another to another. What did he see? Darcy wondered. Did he see the man who had once been as close as any brother? Or did he see the enemy? Did he see the girl within the woman who had once been as close to a daughter as he had ever come? Or did he see his betrayer? Did he see the woman who once guarded his back and shared his bed? Or did he see only the traitor? What did he see?

His eyes flared and he surged forward. The two women spun in opposite directions, letting the captain take the brunt of the frontal assault as they came in from either flank. An intense but uneven battle ensued. He could not defeat them, not all three together, but it would only take a moment's hesitation, the mistake of a breath, to give him the chance to escape. That one moment would be all he needed. They had to stop that from happening.

Then, unexpectedly, he made a grave mistake.

He fended off a grabbing move by Captain America and then turned to toss Widow away from him. The movement caused him to turn too far, leaving his back vulnerable to Darcy. She took the opening, spinning to deliver a high kick the back of his skull. He fell into an unconscious heap at their feet.

They stood there for a long moment, shoulders relaxing as he remained still. Widow blurred into Natasha as she reached down to take his pulse. "It's steady. He's out."

"Good." One corner of Darcy's mouth twitched up in relief. "Now the hard question – what do we do now?"

"We're taking him with us."

Steve's diamond-hard certainty drew a long sigh from her. Darcy traded a brief, concerned glance with Natasha before turning to meet that tortured blue gaze. "Steve," she started.

"I can't leave him like this," Steve interrupted. "Not for SHIELD, not for whoever's been pulling his strings…I just can't."

"Of course not," Darcy nodded, one hand coming up to pinch the bridge of her nose. "If you could, you wouldn't be you." The hand then raised further to make a circle in the air above her head. The quinjet roared back towards them and her companions stiffened. "Calm down," she told them quietly. "It's Hawkeye."

Hawkeye landed and opened the hatch. He was talking even as he hurried out of the vehicle. "We have to hurry. Fury's team is on the way."

They loaded the unconscious Soldier onto the jet and Hawkeye took off, darting straight for the tower. Natasha sat next to him in the co-pilot's seat, talking to Tony and making arrangements for where they could keep their dangerous new roommate.

"I couldn't leave him, Darcy," Steve said softly. "SHIELD would have locked him up somewhere and I would never have seen him again. I couldn't do that."

"No," she agreed, matching his tone. "I know. It's just…Steve, you have to understand how bad this is going to be. They broke him, tore him apart, and then stitched him back together again. They did it more than once. He is never going to be _your_ Bucky, not like you remember him."

"Maybe not," Steve replied and his voice took on the strong note that stirred people to follow him, "but he doesn't have to stay in the cold either."

Her voice held a low, mostly hidden ache in its tone. "We can try."


End file.
